


Torrential

by sweetiejelly



Series: Torrential [1]
Category: As the World Turns
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:37:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetiejelly/pseuds/sweetiejelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Noah stuck in the rain. Written from prompts: Luke/Noah in rain (by bluechic84); stubble (by ladysonsie).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torrential

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for [the hayloft remix challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/thehayloft/4915.html). The prompts used were: Luke/Noah in rain (by bluechic84); stubble (by ladysonsie). ladysonsie beautifully remixed this piece: ["The Sky Is Falling".](http://ladysonsie.livejournal.com/6119.html)

All night the rain fell, flinging against Noah’s bedroom window. It wasn’t a particularly heavy rain so the pinging wasn’t particularly loud. But it was just loud enough to keep him turning, turning, half awake.

He woke half past seven, much past the alarm, cursed. “Damnitdamnit _damnit_!” He barely had time to get decent; ran out of the house bereft of his usuals – a kiss from Luke, a mug of coffee, a close shave.

The rain built over the hours, from barely-forms-a-line to thick-thick-curtain. Classes were as classes go on such a day. Most everyone stayed just enough awake, if they made it in at all.

Luke sat in Java, along with one other customer, as he waited for Noah to clock out. The aroma of coffee grinds and the sweet float of the desert tray surrounded him until he could barely smell the rain. No wonder Noah wanted to work here, even though he burnt himself a few on the cappuccino machine. Luke continued to sketch, holding up a pencil nub as he measured Noah’s slant of chin. Drawing to proportion wasn’t Luke’s forte, but observing Noah – that he could do all day.

“Are you done?” Noah threw down the counter rag. “Gonna pay up? Models don’t come cheap, you know.”

“Yeah they do!” Luke had to counter this. He knew his facts. “I owe you twenty at the most. Anyway, it’s not like you were nude. And you didn’t have anything else to do. No one’s even here because of that crazy rain outside.” A thunder boomed overhead, as if in an exclamation mark.

“ _You’re_ here,” Noah threw back, “and you were ogling me.”

“You have a problem with that?” Luke grinned up close, so close to that enticing chin with those enticing stubbles.

“Hey Noah, I’m going get out of here. Can you close up?” Jeff called out from the door, his umbrella already deployed.

“Yeah, sure.” Noah straightened from his lean, acknowledged Jeff with a quick nod. “See ya.”

“See ya, man.” The door jingled as he left. And just like that, Luke and Noah were alone.

“So…” Luke inched closer. “I think you forgot something this morning.” A finger circled Noah’s name tag.

“Really?” Noah’s fingers were warm at Luke’s neck. “And what would that be?”

Luke’s breath was the special House blend blended with the special Luke blend. It made Noah’s headache ease into a trickle. Especially as those lips brushed over his and those hands tugged at all the right places.

“I don’t know if there are any security cameras or anything. Maybe we should get out of here?” Noah panted against Luke, high off of a kiss delayed.

-  
They huddled against each other under a pathetic excuse of an umbrella. It wobbled like it might cry.

They ran to the truck as fast as they could, feeling the rain against their sides, pelting, pelting, as if it’s trying to get inside.

-  
Somewhere between Java and the farm, they decided they couldn’t drive anymore. Not in that rain. It was almost opaque, blocking out the world until there was just them in their red shirts and jeans.

Luke sniffled. His wet shirt stuck to him like an acrylic painting, all raised edges and slick coating.

“You know, it’s weird, but I think it was actually warmer outside.”

They looked at each other, opened/closed the truck doors in a flash. Noah edged around his truck to where Luke stood.

Impressionistic paintings must have been born of this. Luke was a cap of blond, a lip of red dripping into his shirt. Two columns of blue supported his weight.

“Hi.” “Hi.” Luke couldn’t really see much. He wasn’t sure where they were. They might have been close to Old Towne, close to the center with its arrangement of benches. It didn’t matter. Noah was here with him and no one else was around. He stepped into Noah’s hold, glanced up at the beautiful blur. Despite this mask of nature, all this wetness, all this quiet (besides the rain), wove them in a haze of intimacy. They couldn’t much see, just feel.

Noah’s mouth automatically sought out Luke’s. He tasted of caffeinated rain and felt like distilled summer – strong, hot, insistent.

Luke didn’t do whimpering. That was, in his mind, pathetic. But he wanted to. Noah’s day old stubbles were like a million tiny fingers caressing his face. They punctured straight through to his veins where much had come to a boil.

Noah felt Luke wiggle, harden against him, felt him moving them until Noah’s back’s against the truck door.

Luke felt the length of Noah against his, rubbed in a mad pattern, blindly.

“Here?” Noah managed to pant from a suckle on Luke’s neck. His hands flatten against Luke’s back, confirming.

Luke answered with his hands. One fisted in Noah’s hair, the other in his pants.

Noah let out a puff of air, felt the curtain of rain sway, give way to the intensity of Luke’s gaze. Luke’s fingers moved from his hair to his face, touching, contouring, prickling especially along his chin where wild stubbles grew.

Luke couldn’t stop touching Noah. There was something about his skin that cried out to be touched. It was so fascinating, the topography of another, especially his lover. His right hand was patient, gentle, dipping and sweeping over the face he loved. His left hand was quite opposite, tugging, unzipping, yanking, stroking.

Noah felt cool window against his back. It was an anchor against this assault on his senses – all that rain and all that Luke. He had to stop it before he washes right off with the torrent from the sky. He dropped to his knees, hands undoing Luke.

Luke felt bereft with Noah dropped a foot in front of him. He hung onto the truck, fingers marking the windows even before his jean was pushed away. Noah’s stubbles against his thighs was something else. It was a bright brush of red on a blank canvas. It was a deep scratch on calm marble. It was Noah marking Luke, making him his.

Noah didn’t know how much wetter Luke could be but he licked all the same, adding saliva to sky. Luke tasted like sweet salt expanding on his tongue.

Luke felt like an ocean at high tide. He needed, wanted, Noah, just Noah. His hands swept across Noah’s shoulders, neck, tucked them under Noah’s chin, pulled gently up.

Noah rose again, pure heat. His tongue swept into Luke’s lips, tasted naked need. Again, his back made contact with glass. And then he was spun, slowly, and Luke was cupped behind him in a perfect fit. It made him gasp. He looked behind him, kissed a blur of red.

Luke was touching Noah and kissing him and pressing up against him and touching him. He couldn’t hold in a whimper as he felt Noah’s hand go around him impatiently, pushing him further forward, until his shoes were almost on top of Noah’s shoes. He bent his knees, unbent his knees slowly, found himself squeezed so tightly he had to squeeze back.

Noah felt a tight hug from Luke, felt so filled to the brink that he had to stand on his toes. They move, smooth, like fish through water, breathing, breathing.

Luke felt along the truck body to Noah’s, found what he was searching, glided one hand along the length of him. The other smoothed all over from back to neck to chest, from spine to abs to thigh. There was no canvas of Noah he didn’t cover. There was nothing he wanted to miss.

Noah felt hugged from all over. If ever he was one with the Universe, it was now. He was one with Luke and they were one with the rain, with the ground, with the truck. Everything felt whole, right, connected.

Luke felt a tingling through his systems. It was lightning sewing a line through his heart to Noah’s. It was thunder crying out as they cried out. It was wetness adding to wetness. It was completion.

Noah kept his hold on Luke, wanting to stay in the moment, stay in possession, being possessed.

They stayed like that, an island in the rain, until they had to part. And even then Noah was gathering Luke closer. “If I’d known that stubbles turned you on so much, I’d have skipped shaving _way_ sooner.” He rubbed his cheek gently against Luke’s, kissed the red that arose there.

Luke couldn’t help the blush anymore than he could help the love from filling, spilling, overflowing like the rain.


End file.
